Heretic Spellblade 7 - Ch1v2

Chapter 1

Sapphire-blue flames rippled across the picturesque landscape of southern Falmir, leaving untouched the boundless fields of tall grass that grew unbound in the midst of summer. A column of plate-armored soldiers bedecked in spotless blue uniforms of the Holy Kingdom of Falmir cowered as the magical flames danced around them, threatening to consume them utterly.

A couple-dozen elite knights in matching uniforms, but far better armor, stood opposite them on the road. The difference being the uniforms were fake. The giveaway? The highly recognizable black-haired catgirl twirling a scimitar. Her name was Fei, and the three sapphires embedded in her collarbone glowed as her entire body flickered with the same fire curling around the hilltop they stood on.

Nathan von Straub stood a hundred feet back on a rocky outcropping, but did nothing more than take a sip from his waterskin. Unlike the others, he’d stuck to his typical black and gold Bastion uniform. The one that marked him as a Royal Bastion of the Anfang Empire, and one of the most powerful men in the world.

A small fortress loomed behind him. Its gates stood wide open and voices drifted out from the staggeringly tall tower within it. A sorcerer’s tower, typical of the man who controlled the binding stone within it and who he had inherited it from. Nathan’s old friend and mentor, Gareth Pike, had never bothered to expand his fortresses physically because they were never threatened by external invasion down here.

Nathan had once said he’d been posted to the boonies when he arrived in Gharrick Pass, a forgotten and undeveloped area in the far east of the Empire. But even before Nathan turned the site into a flourishing trade checkpoint, Gharrick Pass looked like a metropolis compared to southern Falmir.

Glancing over the edges of the hills to either side, Nathan saw nothing but wilderness in the distance. No farms. No villages. The flag of a guard post waved far in the distance, only visible thanks to Nathan’s enhanced vision. One of the greatest lakes on Doumahr shimmered below and to his right, unmarred by human activity.

The flames around the soldiers burned out, leaving them unharmed, and they began to reform. Their spirits remained broken, however. They raised their pikes half-heartedly, the faces behind their helmets visages of fear.

“Surrender!” a feminine bellow rang out.

The ground shook as a stout armored figure slammed her tower shield into the ground. The three diamonds shining from her breastplate marked her as Beth, one of Gareth’s trigems. She stood behind Fei.

The enemy soldiers practically fell over from the shockwave. This hardly counted as a battle. Nathan sighed.

“Bastion Pike is inside his tower. It’s still a success, even if our disguises didn’t work,” Ciana told him.

Two women stood near him.

His ever-present bodyguard and trigem Champion, Ciana, hovered behind him. An iridescent unicorn horn protruded from her forward, parting her platinum-blonde hair, which was done up behind her in a high ponytail. Like Nathan, she’d stuck to a black and gold uniform, only hers was a Champion’s. It accentuated her lithe figure and modest bust. Two diamonds and an alexandrite gleamed from her chest.

While Reine, his wolfgirl spymaster and Champion stood behind him wearing a porcelain mask. A baggy dark blue robe kept her hefty bust and curves tucked neatly out of sight, although the telltale wag of her bushy black tail remained visible beneath its folds. A single alexandrite glowed brightly from her collar, powering a portal a few dozen feet behind her.

Nathan lowered his waterskin and looked at Ciana. “The idea was to avoid battle entirely. We even brought human knights, given there won’t be any beastkin soldiers in the local guard down south. Any fight will draw attention.”

The idea had been simple. Teleport in, have Gareth ensure the security of his binding stones in southern Falmir, activate a gateway in one, and use that to establish a landbridge here.

Falmir maintained such a small military presence here that pulling this off without a fight should have been easy. And it would ensure Gareth maintained his power as a Bastion, as he’d become useless without binding stones.

“They’re just local guards,” Ciana assured him. “Once Gareth convinces them that he’s not mind-controlled like the rumors suggest, then we’ll be fine.”

Ah, yes. Those nasty rumors that Princess Charlotte had been spreading about him.

“For such a hotshot Bastion, you seem to excel at doing nothing,” a new voice said from beside Nathan, interrupting his conversation.

He glanced over at the newcomer. She was called Erica, and was Gareth’s other trigem Champion.

Although he offered her his waterskin, she waved him off.

“I’d think you’d be used to the heat here, Straub,” Erica said, narrowing her eyes at him.

Like Reine, Erica kept her frame hidden beneath a hooded getup. One that prevented others from seeing the three moonstone gems in her chest, the two studded magical gauntlets enclosing her hands, or the skintight black pants and bound leather vest she wore. Even while wandering around the palace, Erica rarely let others see beneath her robe.

Nathan knew her appearance well enough. He’d come from a different world. One where he’d been close enough to her, and Gareth’s student of sorts. A young, stupid Bastion desperately trying to save a dying world.

He’d failed, naturally, and ended up here.

“This hardly counts as hot,” he said, looking away from Erica. “I just need to give myself something to do.”

She tried to step up to him, only to be physically blocked by Ciana. Ally or not, Erica specialized in assassination. Until a week ago, she’d been an enemy. Ciana would be a terrible bodyguard to let her get so close.

“You realize a few feet makes little difference to me, right?” Erica teased, but took the hint and stepped back.

“It does to me,” Ciana said, face expressionless.

Unwilling to rise to the bait, Erica turned and faced the same way as Nathan. They both turned and faced the “battle” being fought on the road.

Not that anyone would call this one-sided show of force a battle. Fei and Beth were doing everything they could to avoid turning their enemies into gore. Either of them could end the little tiff in an instant.

“You could make yourself useful and do something over there.” Erica gestured to the faux battle. “Use that silver tongue of yours to make them stand down. That horny prophet of yours isn’t here, but you’re a good enough proxy. Worked wonders in Soreaux, I understand.”

Nathan frowned. Did she understand what he’d done there?

“There are two reasons I’m just standing here,” he said. “First, I’m terrible at holding back. My spells are all built to kill. Wind spells that cut my targets to ribbons. Floods that consume the flesh of my enemies. Spatial slashes that sever reality itself. That sort of thing. And my other discipline is exactly the sort of thing I’d prefer not to use, given the… rumors being spread.”

“That you’re an incubus Messenger taking control of the Empire and Trafaumh for the express purpose of turning Doumahr against the true prophet of Omria?” A mocking smile danced across Erica’s face. “Given you fuck anything female on two legs, I could believe it.”

“The Royal Knights would be very angry with you if they overheard you,” Ciana chirped, her horn flashing with black light.

“Not to mention you have remained sufficiently ‘unfucked’ by Nathan,” Reine added.

Erica rolled her eyes. “A joke. Fucking hell. I’d think you’d be used to it given you two spend enough time around those incorrigible walking pairs of tits that lurk in the palace.”

Nathan was pretty sure she was referring to the Twins, the succubi he’d taken control of years ago and whose sense of humor and obnoxiousness tormented almost everyone around him.

He continued as if he hadn’t been sidetracked, “The second reason is… more complicated.” A grimace rose to his face, unbidden. “I have history here. Long, confusing, and difficult to unravel, even for me. I never wanted to bring war here.”

Years ago, when he’d lost everything and been offered the choice to go back and repair history, he’d walked away from Falmir. Walked away from his country, and a lifetime of loyalty and the pain it had inflicted on him in spite of that same loyalty. The idea had been to save Doumahr and return a hero, so that he never needed to worry about the issue.

Instead, he faced the prospect of burning down his true homeland for the sake of the greater good. And now, standing here, he remained conflicted.

Seeing familiar and peaceful fields that he’d seen in his youth took him back to a better time. A simpler time. One where he’d thought of nothing more than saving the world, serving his princess, and fucking his cute Champions who were coaxing him into gathering more.

But he was an adult now. And part of being an adult was understanding that nostalgia was no replacement for living the real world and getting real things done, instead of living for a misplaced yearning for a past that had never existed.

Out of the corner of Nathan’s eye, he caught a wicked smile on Erica’s face. It split her face in twain, showing sharpened teeth and curved eyes that glinted in the light that reached beneath her hood. A truly vicious, evil smile. One that spoke of the cruelty she’d happily inflict on behalf of her beloved Bastion.

Ciana flinched and instinctively reached for her greatsword. Nathan barely batted an eye, but sent calming signals to his unicorn knight over the mental link he had with her.

“You truly do know me, don’t you?” Erica said, her voice laced with a strange mix of desire and amusement, her grin still in place. “I wasn’t sure what to make of that crazy story you told Gareth, but you’re way too comfortable around me. Beth and him are the only people who aren’t shit scared of me. And the way you look out over these fields…” Her eyes narrowed. “Your eyes are identical to Gareth’s.”

“Really?” Nathan wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“Yeah. Those of somebody who both loves and hates the place. Which makes sense given your story. He’s a royal bastard exiled to the middle of nowhere and treated like a tool, and you were betrayed by a country you dedicated your life to. Peas in a pod. And you’re both obsessed with sorcery.” Erica’s grin transformed into a grimace.

“I take it you’re not.”

“The best thing that’s happened since you dragged Pike over to the Empire is that he no longer puts me to sleep talking about magical theories I don’t understand.”

Which, ironically, was one of the nicer things for Nathan since he’d gotten his friend back. Although he hesitated to call Gareth a friend.

Nathan possessed a decade of memories fighting alongside Gareth. But the older man saw Nathan as more of a rival he’d recently gotten the chance to work with. Genuine friendship would take time.

Even so, being able to talk about the finer details of ascended magic with somebody who didn’t try to suck his dick during the lesson or talk about random, insane nonsense from a world he’d never visited was a blessing. No matter how much time the Twins spent explaining how baseball worked, Nathan failed to understand it.

Then again, they’d said that was normal, and then laughed.

“How’s Gareth doing in the tower?” Nathan inclined his head toward the sorcerer’s tower behind them.

“About as well as can be expected. The rumors about you are a pain, but the connections between himself and his Champions are real. Charlotte’s too lazy to do more to spread rumors. Or maybe coming down here and vaporizing everybody is beyond the pale, even for her,” Erica said.

“She’s petulant, not psychopathic.”

“Sure.” The assassin rolled her eyes. “Or maybe she did the calculus and worked out that murdering the Champions of a runaway Bastion would hurt her position as prophet. A lot of Bastions and nobles aren’t too supportive of her, even if they wouldn’t mind a shot at claiming land in the Empire. If she fires up the magical guillotine, they might bring out their own for her head.”

Cynically, Nathan wouldn’t mind that. If Falmir tore itself apart, it’d save him the trouble of needing to put it to the torch.

On the other hand, he also knew how horrendous that would be. The millions that would die in the ensuing civil war might be worse than a quick and brutal war. Battles waged between Bastions and Champions could move swiftly, especially with the teleportation magic available now.

Any civil war would allow countless demons and Messengers to escape. Nathan might lose everything he’d worked to achieve in an instant.

A series of loud chirping noises pulled him from his thoughts. Looking up, he saw flashing green lights emanating from the tower. A signal from Gareth that he’d succeeded. They’d be red if his Champions somehow overpowered him and sounded the alarm.

Not that he had a chance of truly failing. Even if Gareth failed to convince his Champions, he was a paranoid old bastard. The odds that he’d let them get one over him were nil. A Bastion of his power and skill didn’t need trigem Champions to handle a couple of wayward Champions.

“Shall we see the result of the orgy?” Ciana asked Erica with a strained smile.

And only got a snort in reply. “Not his style. Not every Bastion lays his hands on every Champion under him.”

Erica turned her back on them and blinked away, using her monogem ability. After ordering some nearby knights to guard the portal, Nathan followed with Reine and Ciana.

Is that true? Reine asked Nathan over their mental link. I am quite certain that Erica and Gareth share a rather intimate relationship. And Beth as well.

He held back a sigh. Don’t bring up your peeping with Erica, Reine.

Embarrassment seared his link with the wolfgirl and he knew her face had turned into a tomato, her wolf ears flattening against her head.

I’m not peeping. I’m doing my duty as spymaster, Reine replied, and a low whine escaped her mouth.

Ciana looked at the wolfgirl with a raised eyebrow, but Nathan pulled her attention away by placing a hand on her waist. Or tried, given the unicorn simply smirked.

Hidden behind Reine’s mask were a pair of very special eyes. Her pupils glowed a brilliant gold and held the appearance of wings. They made her blind in the traditional way, but allowed her to magically scry at all times, and penetrate almost all wards on Doumahr. Only those constructed using powerful ascended magic on the level of the prophets, Messengers, or perhaps trigem Champions hoped to stop her. Some of Omria’s old defenses from her prior reign also interfered.

And yes, Erica is being truthful. Gareth’s hardly chaste, but he keeps to his two closest Champions for the most part. The rest are loyal, but not lovers, Nathan continued.

A problem that had created immense complications in his old world, after Gareth had passed and Nathan had taken many on. In a way, it was a similar issue to what happened after Leopold’s passing.

When a Bastion died, the Champions retained their power. It merely went dormant. Only the closest to their Bastion chose to retire, like Mae had after Leopold’s death. The rest moved on to new Bastions, seeking to fight for their country, their pride, advancement, or whatever internal desires they possessed.

That sure as hell wasn’t the problem here, though. Gareth remained firmly alive and his Champions loyal to him, regardless of his actions toward them. Nathan steered well clear.

More uniformed soldiers awaited them inside the tower, except these were genuine Falmirian troops. They saluted Erica as she strode past them without a glance, but swiftly lowered their arms as Nathan approached. Wary eyes watched him. Nobody reached for a weapon.

A lanky man wearing a sorcerer’s robe and little other adornment stood in front of two uniformed duogem Champions. One was a horse beastkin in heavy armor, and the other a young sorceress with dimpled cheeks and an inability to look Nathan in the eyes.

“Did you enjoy your little nap out there?” the lanky man asked. This was Gareth, naturally.

Nathan grunted, “A patrol stumbled upon us. Guess we stood out in a sea of nothing.”

The sorceress’s face lit up and he swore she might argue with him, but she simply bit her lip and glared at her feet. Whereas the beastkin frowned.

“Sometimes nothing isn’t a bad thing. It’s peaceful down here. Plenty of leylines untainted by the endless amount of magical generators powering all the latest inventions,” Gareth said.

“And yet it’s dotted with fortresses all the same. What does that tell you?” Nathan shook his head. “I’ve spent too much time in the Enclave not to see the similarities.”

The beastkin Champion glared at her feet now, gritting her teeth. Gareth glanced at her, then stroked his chin.

“Hmm. It’s a curious similarity, but not the same,” Gareth said, his eyes hardening and a chiding tone entering his voice. A familiar tone, in fact. Nathan had gotten used to it long ago whenever he said something that wasn’t accurate enough for Gareth’s sensibilities. “The Enclave was left to rot after a Messenger invasion long ago that left it an economic ruin, and Omria sealed away the binding stones there. The southern Gharrick Mountains are artificial for the same reason.”

“I know that,” Nathan said, trying to say a petulant sentence without sounding it. “My point—”

“Was that humans have essentially despoiled and wasted beastkin territory?” Gareth gave a thin smile. “The nobles don’t like being reminded, but all of Falmir’s land was taken during the old crusades led by the Empire to crush the beastkin tribes.”

“And down here, in the deep south-west, beyond the Soaring Peaks, was the last refuge of a lot of tribes,” Ciana interrupted. “There are old records in the Imperial Sorcerer’s Lodge that states they remained active right up until the goddess ascended.”

“What?” the horsegirl Champion burst out, eyes widening.

Erica and Gareth shot her a look, and she quietened.

But as Gareth ran a hand down his face, Nathan suspected the news wasn’t truly “news” to the older Bastion.

“Reality and historical record don’t always align.” Gareth smiled self-deprecatingly. “As I well know. Again, the difference is clear. The Enclave is something the Empire abandoned and gave back to the beastkin, however poorly they did so. Down here? It’s what the Enclave would look like if the Nationalists won your civil war last year. As I said, it’s quite peaceful.”

The way Gareth stressed the word “peaceful” made his mockery of the current state of Falmir quite clear. His Champions all nodded.

In that moment, Nathan knew he’d wasted his time by bringing up the comparison entirely. Gareth sure as hell didn’t need help convincing his Champions that Falmir was rotten. They knew it.

After all, they were Gareth’s Champions. Even if his soldiers might not share the same ideals, and fought for him out of the trust and loyalty many held for a capable commander, Champions were different. A good Bastion didn’t need to fuck their Champions to inspire them to greatness.

Nathan knew that better than anyone. Or else he’d spend his every waking moment in bed with the countless Champions now under his control. He had literal companies of superpowered women in his service now.

Leaving Gareth to speak to Erica and wrap things up here, Nathan took a brief look around. He’d only visited this tower once in the past. It wasn’t Gareth’s main base of operations. Even at a glance, he knew it lacked a strong foundation for a gateway.

There had been a reason Gareth came here first, however.

The lanky Bastion sidled up beside him, his staff firmly in his grip. “You’re always so thoughtful. Looking for a good place to site a gateway?”

“There isn’t one. You know that.” Nathan shot Gareth a look, and the sorcerer merely smiled. “Anyway, sorry for earlier.”

“For what?”

“Stepping on your toes. Or trying to bring up some of Fyre’s propaganda to help. Given how the soldiers reacted—”

Gareth clicked his tongue. “It doesn’t seem like you to apologize, so don’t bother. And it’s a nice reminder to me who and what I’m working for. To me, Falmir’s failings have always seemed about not living up to its potential. Too much focus on internecine squabbles, creating divides to maintain control, and leaving huge resources untapped. To Fyre and her rising beastkin cohort, it’s more fundamental. I need to watch myself.”

“If you say so.” Nathan ignored the look thrown his way and instead waved a hand at the tower around them. “Anyway, you brought me here to test me, didn’t you? I got that vibe from Erica earlier.”

Gareth’s expression vanished. Annoyance flickered in his eyes.

“Really? Erica doing her job annoys you?” Nathan asked.

“Let’s just say the two of us have different reads on you.”

“Is that jealousy talking?”

A snort. “You can dream. That prophet of yours is more likely to betray you than Erica is to show interest in men. Or people in general.” Gareth side-eyed Nathan for a moment. “To give you some idea, I think you’re mopier and more cynical than I expected given your actions. Erica thinks you’re dark, brooding, and calculating.”

“And who’s view of me is winning?”

No answer. Gareth instead chose to stare at the stone walls of the tower.

Which was all the answer Nathan needed. He smirked.

Gareth should know better than to disagree with Erica’s judgment of people. She might be a misanthrope, but Gareth was also a bit of a cynical shut-in. For much the same reason, Nathan relied on Narime and Seraph for tactical and strategic judgments, as he had his own biases.

“It’s a difficult story to believe,” Gareth said abruptly. “This infinite timelines nonsense. The only stuff written about it are crackpot theories buried in ancient binders in the Imperial Sorcerers’ Lodge. Literal loose papers. Not even cogent theories or books. Yet you’re the one with a trio of succubi at your beck and call, a prophet obeying you, and more Champions than anyone in history. Not to mention that fictional fox. I feel like I’m an atheist standing in front of the goddess in the flesh.”

“There’s a reason I don’t tell many people about it,” Nathan said. “Anyway, I was right, wasn’t I?”

Grunting, Gareth clicked his fingers and pointed at the floor. Or, perhaps, the very stones they stood on.

“If you know me half as well as you suggest, you should know all about my past, right? What this place means to me. My history, my first Champion, how I lost my virginity—”

Nathan barked with laughter. “Really, Gareth? You might not believe this, but I was dumb and reckless in my original world. Less concerned about the past of my mentor, more interested in what he could teach me about killing demons and convincing the princess to drop her panties.”

“Did she? Drop her panties, I mean? She’s, uh, kind of interested in you, I think. Treats Oliver like a pet, although I’m certain he hasn’t gotten lucky.”

“She never treated me even half as well. Acted more like… Hmm, not like Alice. She had Alice’s political façade, but was used to getting her way and kept us at a distance. We were convenient tools in a kingdom run by nobles growing increasingly disloyal to the monarchy.”

“Well, shit. Sounds like the Charlotte I know, and you match Oliver almost too well.”

Nathan barely hid his wince. That hurt, given his increasingly negative opinion of Oliver.

“Anyway, I know this tower was your mentor’s,” Nathan said. “The Bastion who took you in was a sorcerer and wanted somebody to take over his binding stones who wasn’t an idiot or tied up in politics. So while you netted a couple of binding stones and some powerful Champions quickly enough, you were also in the literal wilderness.”

Stroking his chin, Gareth nodded. “The only part missing is my heritage. That mummy of an archduke banged a loose royal—one of the king’s sisters—and I resulted. All sorts of complications there. So they shoved me into a boarding school, then a mage tower once my talent with magic became apparent. Then, yeah, I became a Bastion. Nearly got killed in Kurai thanks to Adam Martel’s scheming to put me on the throne.”

Adam Martel, huh?

Nathan’s true father from his old world had been one of the ringleaders of the Republican movement, and somehow had become one of Charlotte’s foremost generals in her invasion of Trafaumh. No doubt a change in loyalties entirely out of self-interest.

“Anyway, let’s lock down the binding stone,” Nathan said. “Then move onto the next. Hopefully before anyone notices.”

Gareth led him into the basement, where a huge floating orb of solid rock lay. Black bands wrapped around it. A protective seal that stopped Bastions from other nations from claiming it. Useless against Nathan, for multiple reasons. Gareth had added his own ward as well.

Frowning, Nathan shook his head. “Was this ward aimed at stopping me from taking your stones?”

“Anyone, really. But a little,” Gareth said, scratching his chin and looking away.

“Mental magic is really the only thing that can protect a binding stone properly. Any other discipline of ascended magic won’t work.”

“A lovely thing to know. A shame there’s literally nothing written anywhere about mental magic. Not everyone has pet succubi to teach them.”

Arguing about this sure wouldn’t help. With Gareth’s help, Nathan cast a powerful mental seal over the binding stone. One coded to Gareth’s mind, but that would otherwise repel intruders. It should stop anybody from stealing the binding stones, even if they broke in with an army. Nathan had worked on this seal ever since Kadria had cut him off from his own all those years ago when she’d attacked him.

As they left the basement, Gareth asked the obvious question, “Do you think this will actually stop Charlotte? She’s the same as Fyre, apparently. Powered by Omria. Why can’t she just snap her fingers and punch through your defenses?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. But the real question is: if either prophet could take binding stones off Bastions, why haven’t they been doing so in battle?” Nathan asked.

Gareth stared at him in silence for several seconds. No response.

Continuing, Nathan said, “Fyre can hijack a gem and overload it, killing the Champion. But she never struck at Bastions. Charlotte never did, either. Hell, after you left, she didn’t teleport down her and cut you off. I think something stops the prophets from interacting with the binding stones much. That’s why Messengers claim binding stones to stop the goddess from destroying them.”

The nature of the binding stones and Omria seemed deeply intertwined. But the prophets seemed to only be capable of interacting with the outputs of binding stones, not the strange orbs themselves.

Somehow, Nathan knew he was touching on something fundamental by scratching at the inability of Omria to interfere with binding stones.

When he’d suggested to Tarako that Omria might literally be magic, she’d more or less agreed, implying he’d caught on to some great secret. Was that why the foxes didn’t worship her like a goddess anymore? Because to them, Omria was more force of nature than deity?

Surely if Omria was magic, she should be able to interfere with the binding stones. He still didn’t understand her true nature. Perhaps nobody did. Not even the Messengers.

But Nathan had work to do, and not enough time to gaze at his navel.

With the tower secure, he and Gareth needed to move onto the next one. Charlotte might not be able to take back the binding stones, but if she found them down here, she could certainly make their lives hell.

Claiming Gareth’s four other binding stones took a couple of hours. None took as long as the first, although they spent more time in his headquarters setting up the catalysts and establishing the magical gateway that would connect it with one of the Nathan’s more distant fortresses in the north of the Empire, near Straub.

He trusted Gareth, but any gateway was a risk. Even with wards and contingencies, should Charlotte find out about it, she might send an army through it without them noticing.

On the other hand, he worried a lot less about that risk given she could teleport an army into the Empire at a moment’s notice.

“It’s unfortunate Gareth can’t use your mental gateways,” Fei said as they prepared to pack up for the final trip.

Her cat ears twitched as she hovered in front of Nathan, clearly seeking attention from him. She’d been rather bored all morning. The most she’d done was scare some militia earlier. Dragging her away from training, eating, and sleeping was truly a travesty.

Nathan ran his fingers through her hair and rubbed behind one ear absentmindedly. Fei leaned into his touch, her bushy black cat’s tail moving more like a dog’s and her immense bust heaving with every movement.

“I’ve noticed you have your own special network,” Gareth commented. “I’m assuming that’s also mental magic only.”

“It’s in the name,” Nathan drawled. “I haven’t worked out an easy way to let anybody other than my Champions access them.”

With that, they were done. Reine provided a final portal to head back to Aleich. Their small party trooped through it and emerged inside an antechamber inside the Imperial Palace.

The air buzzed with activity, even with the door closed. Royal Knights in full armor and uniform stood guard and saluted with arms on chests as they returned.

Nathan scowled at the noise penetrating the room. “I’d forgotten. Today’s the first full day of the emergency Diet session Alice called.”

“You just forgot about that?” Erica raised an eyebrow, hand on one hip. “Aren’t you the Empress’s fiancé?”

“And I plan to have as little as possible to do with days of nobles posturing and bickering. They plan to spend days arguing over whether we should declare war against Falmir over their recent actions.” He ran a hand down his face. “I should be out front at least. There’s a good chance many of the nobles would… inquire about me if I vanished entirely.”

Alice would understand his absence, but he’d be troubling her all the same. So Nathan ordered the knights who’d accompanied him to retire and put the Falmirian uniforms in storage, before heading toward the palace steps. A small retinue of Royal Knights joined him—all beastkin, as usual, their tails wagging excitedly beneath their uniforms—while Fei and Ciana remained close. Reine vanished.

For whatever reason, Gareth came along. Other than shooting him a questioning glance, Nathan did nothing.

The palace entrance bustled with activity. A small army of Royal Knights stood guard at the exterior wall of the palace complex, as well as the various buildings within. While the most important session would be held inside the Imperial Palace itself, many attending nobles and merchants would meet in the nearby buildings dedicated to the Diet.

Horseless carriages poured through the gates at a decent clip, disgorging overdressed nobles and their many personal guards and companions. Every wagon was checked by knights and sorcerers as it entered.

Countless more nobles milled about, watching the proceedings. A dense throng gathered outside the walls, filling up the plazas that surrounded the palace. Hundreds of knights from the Imperial Army—all handpicked elites from Fei’s units—kept the crowd under control.

To Nathan, the Diet session was a bureaucratic nuisance. To everyone else, the following few days would alter the course of history. Hence all the dolled up nobles and the massive crowd. Security needed to be tight.

Nobles began whispering to each other excitedly as a specific set of carriages pulled to a stop. They bore the coat-of-arms of Archduke von Milgar, Alice’s grandfather, and one of the most powerful men in the Empire.

Royal Knights accompanied him, as archdukes were allowed to bear the royal colors and be under their protection. As did several mystic foxes, whose many tails stood out and drew almost as much attention as the archduke.

Curiously, a somewhat familiar elf walked beside Milgar, and was in deep conversation with him. Darman Al-Dafian, if Nathan recalled. The ambassador of the Republic of Arcadia and a high-born elf noble.

His presence was especially strange, as while Nathan had dealt with him a couple of times, the faeries that ruled Arcadia refused to officially recognize Alice as Empress. The ambassador sure as hell shouldn’t be publicly speaking with an archduke.

“Trouble,” Ciana grunted, unslinging her greatsword.

Abruptly, shouts rang out from the gates. Nathan’s hand shot to the sword at his waist, while the Royal Knights across the palace began to draw their own weapons and rush to the scene.

A pair of carriages stopped dead in the checkpoint, bearing a vaguely familiar coat-of-arms. Knights and sorcerers surrounded it and were shouting warnings.

Then the front-most carriage burst open. A woman in expensive but well-tailored clothes burst from the wreckage, a pair of sapphires gleaming from her chest.

Without a word of warning, she drew a dagger from within her jacket and hurled it at the ground beneath her. Her sapphires flashed with a brilliant gold—something they shouldn’t do.

Then everything within thirty feet of her exploded into ice. The carriage exploded into shards. Sorcerers frozen solid. A dense mist filled the air. Only the knights appeared unharmed due to the protective enchantments of their armor, but they remained rooted to the ground.

“To arms,” Nathan yelled, his voice booming with magic. “Assassins at the gates. Lockdown the palace!”

- - - - -

Commentary: Take two.

You'll see some general ideas and approach repeated, just in what I think is a better way and better pacing. Some stuff will be put off for a while, though. I only removed one major plot point, because it seemed poorly received and was no longer needed with the rewritten story for Books 7/8.

Otherwise, welcome to the kickoff.